


Visiting Your Roots

by Hino



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: Gen, Post canon, Ryou exploring some of the feelings left in his heart by the Ring, Young British Boy Rides Into Desert; Forgets Self Preservation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-13
Updated: 2017-04-13
Packaged: 2018-10-18 09:31:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10614114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hino/pseuds/Hino
Summary: He’d started riding in the middle of the night. It took a lot of money and effort to try and convince someone to give up their horse to a pale stranger who’d just wandered out of the airport with only a backpack and determination. Even moreso, given that Ryou had insisted he needed no guide when he informed the horse owner that he was going to ride out into the desert.In the end, he said “Fuck it” and stole the horse.





	

Ryou knew Egypt was hot, but he’d forgotten _just_ how hot it could get.

 

He’d started riding in the middle of the night. It took a lot of money and effort to try and convince someone to give up their horse to a pale stranger who’d just wandered out of the airport with only a backpack and determination. Even moreso, given that Ryou had insisted he needed no guide when he informed the horse owner that he was going to ride out into the desert.

In the end, he said “Fuck it” and stole the horse.

 

That was hours ago, and now the sun was high in the sky. The horse, which he’d named Florence as a joke, was barely keeping up a steady trot under the burning heat. In his infinite wisdom, Ryou had only packed two bottles of water and some snacks. 

He’d forgotten that horses needed to eat too.

“Come on,” he soothed, trying to encourage Florence to keep going. “Just a little further. We’re almost there.” 

If Florence could speak, he would have immediately snapped at Ryou. For as far as the eye could see was empty sands, no buildings, oasis, or even pyramid in sight. It wasn’t even clear which direction the town had once been, with all the twists and turns they’d taken. They were, without a doubt, lost. The kid didn’t even have a map with him.

The hot stirrup touched Florence’s side and he reared up, knocking Ryou into the hot sand. Immediately free, the horse turned and bolted for what it assumed was the way home, leaving the stranded Brit coughing in the sand cloud that had been kicked up. 

“That’s right!” Ryou shouted, shaking his fist angrily at the fleeing beast. “Abandon me just like you did before, you stupid Spirit!”

 

Honestly, it was stupid to blame a horse fleeing on the Spirit of the Millennium Ring, but it’d gotten easy to blame that good-for-nothing entity for so many things, now it was just second nature for Ryou. From little things like missing the bus, to bills not getting paid properly, Ryou blamed the Spirit.

Now, Ryou was stranded in the middle of the Egyptian desert with no-one to blame but himself.

 

Standing up and brushing the sand free of his clothes, Ryou took a moment to reorient himself. He’d come out here spur of the moment, following a feeling deep in his heart. It was a sense of longing, something that made him get out of bed at the stroke of midnight, pack a bag, and catch the first flight to Egypt without letting anyone know he’d left. Right now, he was letting his heart guide him.

Which was all well and good in concept, but less useful in practice.

Still, he had nothing more to lose. Attempting to go back would only result in dying of dehydration. If he was going to perish from his own stupidity, Ryou had one place he wanted to do it. Taking a breath and focusing, Ryou turned north, or what he assumed was north given the sun had risen left of him, and began the long walk.

 

Sand got in his shoes as he trudged along, but Ryou didn’t complain. He’d gotten past complaining hours ago, when he still had water. Now he was without food, without water, and without patience. The longing in his heart had only grown more painful, and had he the energy, Ryou would have screamed into the evening air. Half a day had passed, and all Ryou had to show for his efforts were sandy shoes, sunburn, and no sleep.

“Stupid Spirit,” he cursed, voice weak with dehydration. He’d kill a man for water. Florence had taught him how. “Stupid Ring. Stupid Yugi. Stupid Millennium Items.” Each step kicked up sand but Ryou didn’t care. “Stupid Florence. Stupid longing. Stupid everything.”

In some attempt to vent his anger, Ryou took the empty water bottle from his bag and threw it down onto the sand. It landed with an unsatisfying “thmp” and Ryou scooped it back up. He was an angry man, but he was not a litterer.

His anger was lessened, but his little outburst had spent whatever energy he still had. Exhausted, he stumbled, landing face-first in the sand. It got in his mouth, and Ryou spat, frantically trying to get the coarse substance off his tongue. His vision wavered, and the longing in his chest grew painful, like the tines of the Millennium Ring were digging into his skin again.

These were his last moments.  
He didn’t want to die here. There was somewhere else he wanted to perish. Somewhere that had been in his dreams, in his memories, in that longing that drove him onwards.

“Please, Ra, Obelisk, Slifer, whoever is listening. Just... take me to Kul Elna.”

And then the heat grew too much, and Ryou let his face drop into the warm sand.

 

Something hard was against his back.  
Ryou expected the afterlife to be soft like clouds, or feather quilts, or at worst, a cheap mattress.

Slowly, he began to open his eyes. The sun was blinding, and so he took his time adjusting to the light. Ryou took a deep breath, immediately coughing as sand tickled his lungs. Coughing and spluttering, he spat sand onto the ground, running his teeth along his tongue in a desperate attempt to remove all of it.

A few minutes later and with more than enough multilingual cursing, Ryou found his mouth sand-free. His senses had come back to him, and he got to his feet, knees shaking. He’d been leaning against a building, and now that he was actually paying attention to the world, Ryou noticed the rest of the decrepit houses around him. They were all made of stone, old and worn but still very much standing. It was amazing, and the part of him that adored archaeology just wanted to analyze it all.

What he instead focused on was the small bundle that had been set before him. It was wrapped in a red cloth, and looked big enough to hold a large encyclopaedia. His father had bought many when he was still alive, and Ryou always found himself in awe of both them, and their large packaging. Now though, he didn’t feel awe, but curiosity.

Bending down, he removed the cloth and draped it over his arm. Inside was indeed a box, although it was made of wood. It had certainly seen better days, and it looked three seconds away from breaking, given how rotten it had become. Inside were three water bottles, along with canned meat, and some fresh fruit. Ryou could only stare at it, stunned by the sudden appearance of supplies. He pinched himself, wincing at the pain, and then did it again, but the food did not disappear.

In his rush to pack the supplies into his backpack, the cloth fell to the ground. Ryou stopped, gaze focused on the material. There was just something about it. Supplies put on hold, Ryou grabbed the cloth and shook it out, doing his best to get all the sand off. With it clean, he could see that it was a cloak. White lines were sewn around the wrists and the trim, leaving a sliver of red between the edge of the material and the white. Something about it was familiar, and before Ryou could register what he was doing, he had removed his shirt, replacing it with the cloak. It brushed against his sunburn on his neck, and on his lower arms, but it didn’t hurt him. In fact, it seemed to put him at ease. Soothed with his new outfit, Ryou folded his shirt up and placed it in his backpack, along with the rest of the newfound supplies.

 

Ryou made his way around the village slowly, taking in every detail, committing it to memory. He prayed at every significant building, and at all the other insignificant ones too. He wasn’t really a religious person, but Ryou had seen Gods. He knew they were real. 

He prayed that the souls found peace. That they weren’t suffering anymore. He prayed to give thanks for the food and water the village had given him. After he’d prayed above ground, he moved around, descending down the ancient stairs that seemed so familiar to him.

Beneath the ground were pillars, along with a large hole. Part of Ryou knew a stone had been here before, and it was meant to host the Millennium Items. He stopped at the small staircase and prayed again.  
“Is there anything I can do for you?” he asked. “For the spirits of this town?”

A soft sound of metal on stone made him look up, and he found a pair of scissors set before him. Understanding fully, he took the blades to his hair, cutting and snipping away until it resembled the man hidden in his far off memories. The Thief King. Ryou couldn’t remember his face, but he knew his coat and hair.

This town was trying to survive through him, and Ryou realized as he cut the last piece of hair, that the longing in his chest was gone. Whatever had drawn him here was now a part of him. There wasn’t an ache asking him to stay, or a pain in remembering the outside world.

Kul Elna had been remembered, and it was happy for that.

 

Ryou wasn’t sure how long he stayed underground. He’d dropped the offcuts of his hair into the hole and merely sat on the edge, feet dangling over the void. The village was silent, but it felt like it was talking to him. Thanking him for visiting, for taking it home with him.

In the distance, Ryou heard a voice like his but not, laughing. It was a comfort, and he found it was what he needed to stand. 

Leaving the underground was easy, but once he got above it, Ryou felt like the world was weighing on his shoulders, making each step difficult. The sun was low in the sky, and although he knew the village was okay with him leaving, it was like his heart wanted to stay here.

“I can’t,” was all he could say as he forced himself onwards. “I can’t. I can’t.” Tears were forming in the corner of his eyes as the scars from the Millennium Ring began to itch and ache. “I can’t stay, but I’ll never forget this place.”

He couldn’t forget if he wanted to.

 

The pull ceased, and his steps came strangely easy. Ryou softly rubbed at the scars on his chest, now visible to the world with his new robe. Wandering through the streets, he found the road leading out, and found himself greeted with a horse.

“Florence?”

The horse reared up and trotted towards him, stopping just a few steps away and waiting patiently. Ryou grinned, jumping into the saddle. “Thanks Spirit.”

A soft breeze blew through the town, ruffling Ryou’s freshly cut hair. It reminded him of a parent or guardian affectionately tousling your hair. A smile settled on his lips, and Ryou gently tapped the stirrups, spurring the horse onwards. Each step kicked up sand, and Kul Elna became a tiny speck in the distance.

Ryou turned back, watching as it faded away. For a moment, with the distance put between him and the village, it seemed as if the streets were full of people. They held candles, and seemed to be waving him off. With a grin, he raised his arm and waved back at them, keeping it up until the glow of their lights faded behind the sand dunes.

 

The airport reappeared with the morning sun. Ryou trotted the horse into the place he’d stolen it from, setting it back in the stable and offering his goodbyes without the stable owner even knowing. Getting on a plane wasn’t that hard either. With the money he’d saved from not legally renting a horse, Ryou could get on a flight immediately. It wasn’t as if he was in a rush to leave Egypt, but there was no reason to stay. Marik and his family were staying in Domino for the next few months, and Kul Elna would remain in both his heart and his mind.

“I think I’ve found what I was looking for,” Ryou mumbled as he sank into the luxury first-class seating of the plane. His coat and lack of shirt made him stand out, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. He’d paid his money, so he could look how he pleased.

In Kul Elna he’d found safety, memories, parts of an ancient heritage, and-

_“I think I’ve found what I was looking for, too.”_

“Oh no.”

 

Another soul.


End file.
